Roadways and Roundabouts - Revisited

When we first moved here, learning to navigate the roads was a challenge.

In a creative attempt to slow traffic, communes turn busy streets into an obstacle course. They add speed bumps -- long ones that stretch across the road, and sometimes it is difficult to know how high they are until the kids hit their heads on the ceiling if I don't slow down enough. There are giant square speed bumps that are usually positioned next to each other, leaving drivers to wonder if they should try to go through the middle or attempt a "one-side" hit, where half of the car goes over the bump. I've learned that the most effective approach for minimal bump-age is straight on (the biggest part of the square goes right between the tires).

There are also the road blocks. These are big structures that block half of the road, making it impossible for two drivers to pass each other at the same time. Sometimes they even make them pretty, by planting flowers in them. Drivers are forced to take turns going through, meaning that driving in my neighborhood can easily turn into one big game of chicken, especially if someone doesn't know the rules about who has the right-of-way.

And we also have lots of roundabouts. These help with the traffic flow and keep everyone moving through busy intersections - much better than traffic lights and stop signs, in my opinion. To add just one more level of excitement, there is also the "yield to the driver from the right" rule. This means that at unmarked intersections, drivers on the right, always have the right-of-way regardless of who gets to the intersection first, unless the road coming from the right is a smaller road, coming into a major road. Ahem. You can probably guess that not everyone agrees about when a road is "smaller." I know the culture of my own neighborhood's streets, but I still get paranoid driving in unfamiliar neighborhoods.

As you can imagine, Saturday and Sunday mornings sometimes reveal carnage from the late night drivers of the night before: tire tracks in the flowerbed of a roundabout; pieces of a broken headlight combined with a missing chunk of cement from a roadblock; or even a fallen streetlight. In all fairness, if you aren't familiar with the streets, the roadblocks aren't always easy to see in the dark whether you've had a few drinks or not.

On our house-hunting trip almost six-years ago, I remember feeling like I was driving with Jason Bourne. My husband zipped our little rental car up and down the side streets like he was being chased. He might have had fun weaving in and out of roadblocks, and bumping over speed bumps, but I remember gripping onto my seat and yelling at him to slow down. For friends and family who have followed this blog since its inception, they might remember an early blog post about our drive to school. (I would link to it, but the host-site doesn't exist anymore.) Our drive to school over bumps and around the roundabouts, combined with his nerves and yogurt for breakfast, made Monkey carsick. He even threw-up all over me one morning.

It's funny, as we get ready to move, I am coming face-to-face with a lot of new expats just arriving. After all, I have to sell everything in our house that plugs into a wall, and new expats are buying everything for their house that plugs into a wall. It's a symbiotic relationship. Part of me is jealous that they are just beginning their experience, as ours is coming to a close. The other part of me feels like I did my senior year in college - it was fun while it lasted, but it is time to be done. But it is also providing me with a fun reflection - of how I felt and what I thought, when we first arrived, as compared to how I feel now.

A recent FB post from a new expat friend reminded me about how scary it was to drive here in the beginning. Last week, we had one morning where everyone got out of the house without drama. Everyone remembered lunch boxes, swim bags, and we were even on time. That morning, I slowed down to the perfect speed to go over the speed bumps and no one hit their heads. My car wove in and around the roadblocks in perfect sync with oncoming drivers, waving my gratitude to the cars that paused when they were supposed to yield. Zipping around the roundabouts at a smooth pace so as to be considerate of Monkey's sensitive tummy. It felt like a fine-tuned choreographed dance. One that is soon coming to an end.